


It's Bittersweet (That's Why I Like It)

by bloo_balloon



Series: Lust for Life [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: But Tamer I Guess, Draw Me Like One of Your French Girls, Drug Abuse, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Pining, Poor Life Choices, Sort Of, Whet Is Tagging I Don't Know Her, White Collar Crime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 14:54:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16662935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloo_balloon/pseuds/bloo_balloon
Summary: Yuta is on his way to self-destruction and Sicheng is sick and tired of being a spectator to all of that.It's unhealthy for his well-being that he cares a little bit too much.





	It's Bittersweet (That's Why I Like It)

**Author's Note:**

> My love for this pairing is unending. Even though it isn't really a ship fic per se, I wrote this on a whim and thought hey, why not post it here?
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy!

He's been at it again.

 

Sicheng doesn't need much of an indication when he enters the studio in a rush and finds Yuta sitting on the floor, barefoot, shirtless, with a dazed look on his face and miscellaneous painting paraphernalia spread all around him.

 

His wet hair is curled around the ends and small droplets of water fall rhythmically onto the lenses of his glasses. His eyes are closed, framed by dark prominent circles, telltale signs of insomnia. Sicheng wonders if he’s slept at all since they last saw each other two days ago.

 

"Bloody hell, Yuta." He can't help but mutter. "Looks like a typhoon just passed through."

 

He jumps at the sound of Sicheng’s voice, taken out of his temporary stupor and sits up without much struggle.

 

"Prob'ly not the right time for you to swing by," he shrugs. "Was 'bout to clean up but got sidetracked. Never seen this room so filthy and the air is so damn stale. Lemme just...”

 

The faint aroma of citrus doesn't do much to cover the pungent smell of burnt chemicals, the only remaining sign of what had transpired before his arrival.

 

Yuta saunters to the other end of the room and pushes the blinds out of the way before opening the window. "Sit down already and stop worrying! Feels like you're 'bout to start telling me off any second now."

 

"I’m not worried about you." Sicheng states dryly. "Honestly, you could be throwing yourself in front a moving car and I wouldn't give a flying fuck."

 

They both know it's not true but Sicheng is too stubborn to admit it and Yuta is too caught up in his own mind to call him out on his blatant lie.

 

He didn't sign up for this when he begrudgingly accepted to work with Yuta.

 

He was annoying with his constant cheerfulness and his penchant to talk too much but his talent and enthusiasm compensated for that in spades. The first weeks were hard for him, having to get accustomed to Yuta’s quirkiness and weird habits and mannerisms. In the end though, he realized that despite their personalities clashing more often than not, Yuta was not that difficult to get along with.

 

Suffice it to say, that was  _before_  Sicheng found out about his addiction.

 

The first time he caught Yuta high was a complete disaster. One moment he'd be prancing around the room, laughing and talking even more than he usually did and the next, he'd crawl into one corner of the room and sob silently, pleading to whoever was willing to listen to get rid of the "bugs" crawling underneath his skin. Only after a good three weeks and a half were the scratch marks healed completely.

 

He remembers dialing Taeyong’s number in a panic, while he was frantically trying to prevent Yuta from biting into his own arms. He wasn't so cruel as to leave him by himself while he was in that state but when Taeyong arrived and took matters into his own hands, Sicheng fled like the coward that he was and cried himself to sleep that night. To this day, he won’t admit that maybe he‘d been more scared for Yuta than he had been for himself that day.

 

Yuta later gave him a half-arsed explanation claiming it was the first time he reacted that badly and saying that it normally only makes him incredibly giddy and light and helps him focus when he’s behind schedule on a job.

 

His perception of Yuta changed drastically afterward and as much as he was trying to convince himself that Yuta didn't deserve his pity and that he was doing this to himself deliberately, Sicheng couldn't help worrying about him.

 

Yuta’s attitude towards him didn't change, however. He was still his normal cheeky self but Sicheng now knew then that the smiles weren't as genuine as he’d initially believed them to be.

 

Yuta had promised he'd cut down if it began to negatively influence his job, but it never did so two weeks later, he was back at it again.

 

It has been a recurring thing ever since and somehow Sicheng is always caught right in the middle of it.

 

Today is no different.

 

"Turn that awful ringing down." Yuta says loudly, startling Sicheng out of his own thoughts. Yuta’s eyes dart around the room as if trying to locate the source of the irritating noise.

 

Sicheng doesn't bother telling him that the ringing is only in his head. It’d be the equivalent of talking to a brick wall.

 

Yuta gives a full body shudder, slapping both of his cheeks once, twice, three times as if trying to wake himself up from an unwanted dream. The skin turns an angry shade of red but he doesn't seem to be registering any kind of pain.

 

Next, he starts pacing up and down, stopping to glance out the window from time to time.

 

Only then, in that fleeting moment of peacefulness does Sicheng really get to take in the state of the room. The floor is littered with torn bits of paper and broken pencils and brushes. Blots of red paint stain the white, fluffy carpet and even the mural is in a horrid state. The delicate designs that he knows took Yuta forever to create are splattered with a sickening mix of metallic yellow and green, some of it still dripping onto the wooden floor.

 

What catches his eye however, is the surprisingly uncluttered drafting table near the windows. He leaves his backpack by the door and walks closer to inspect it.

 

The only thing resting on it is a single piece of canvas which was probably left out to dry, judging by the visible marks of fresh paint.

 

He couldn't believe his eyes.

 

"You actually finished it?" The words flow past his lips before he can stop them.

 

Yuta looks disinterestedly in his direction and sighs. "Why do you look so surprised? I specifically said I'd have it done by the end of the week."

 

"Well, yeah but I just thought-"

 

"Actually, I started yesterday around noon and worked ‘till earlier today. It was a right pain in the arse to get the colour of the skin but in the end it turned out perfectly, I'd say. Lee could hire all the art appraisers in the world and none of them would be able to tell it’s fake, I can vouch for that." he announces smugly.

 

Sicheng studies it closely and reluctantly has to agree with the arrogant bastard. It looks authentic, down to the last detail as he had said.

 

"Where's the original then?"

 

"Back inside the vault as promised. Told you the blokes keeping watch can be easily persuaded with the right amount. Now you just need to swap it out before Lee comes to collect it and we can all be on our merry way. I'm feeling like taking time off after this. Someplace exotic should do the trick. Bali? The Seychelles? Fiji maybe? Fancy joining me, Sicheng? I can show you a good time."

 

"Sadly, I’ll have to decline," he leers. "You and I won't be crossing paths after this job is done. I will personally make sure of that and you'd better make it your life goal to stay out of my way."

 

"A frigid bitch up till the very end, eh? How could I even find it in m'self to put up with that rank attitude of yours?" Yuta smirks. “No matter how much I tried to make you like me, nothing ever seemed to work.”

 

"What even is there to like about you? You’re loud, smile way too much and have no definition of personal space,” Sicheng snaps back, but his words don’t really hold any of their usual bite. He’s not here to get into petty arguments.

 

"It’s a shame you’re so pretty to look at," Yuta blurts out, fixing his unwavering gaze on Sicheng. "Once you open your mouth you become a walking turn off."

 

Sicheng scoffs, suddenly losing all interest in maintaining the flow of the conversation. "You were way less of a wanker when we first met. I kinda want that Yuta back 'cause this one right here," he points an accusatory finger towards him, "is malfunctioning horrendously."

 

Yuta’s laugh is loud, high-pitched and quite frankly more irritating than usual. Sicheng’s fist itches to collide with Yuta’s jaw, only he doesn’t know how Yuta would react to it in his doped up state and he’s not willing to take any chances. "If you stopped by a tiny bit earlier you could've got a first-hand experience. Then we could've happily malfunctioned together."

 

"Thanks, but no thanks. I like to have a clear mind especially when I need to maintain appearances for the sake of a job."

 

"And that's exactly why working behind the scenes is way better than putting yourself out there,” Yuta says matter-of-factly.

 

"How so?" he asks, walking back to the sofa and plopping down rather gracelessly.

 

"Maintaining appearances as you so eloquently put it, is too much of a chore in general. It gets sickening and after having to pretend for too long you just lose track of yourself. It becomes much more than a forged identity," he pauses. "It slowly becomes your reality and that's the point when most people get complacent. There shouldn't be any room for complacency in our field because that's exactly what gets you behind bars."

 

Sicheng understands what Yuta is trying to get across to him but he shakes his head in denial. "I've been doing this for long enough to know when I’m in way over my head. You take care of your part and I’ll take care of mine."

 

"Is it worth it though?" Yuta asks, without missing a beat. "Having to whore yourself out to earn somebody's trust? Can Lee still get it up for you?"

 

That's exactly why he hates it when Yuta is high. His sickly sweet personality just seems to vanish into thin air every time he gets his fix. His ego inflates tenfold and he's brash, rude and obnoxiously loud.

 

"I don't whore myself out, you bastard." Sicheng snaps, an ugly frown contorting his features. "It’s strictly a business partnership. To him I'm just a hired appraiser and I get paid a boatload of money for my expertise."

 

Yuta’s pupils are blown wide and his pacing doesn't seem to be stopping anytime soon. In his path, he tramples all of the botched up sketches and attempts, but his full attention is on Sicheng now.

 

How much longer until he burns out?

 

"Five minutes give or take." Yuta laughs suddenly. With a stained cloth he plucks off the floor, he wipes his glasses then replaces them on his face with shaky hands.

 

"Sorry?"

 

"It's been about five minutes since I had it."

 

"I wasn't going to ask-"

 

"Yes you bloody were. You never stuck around till the end, always relying on your precious Taeyong to get me through if worse came to worst. You have to be at least a tiny bit curious."

 

Sicheng is indeed curious, just not enough to try it for himself and start his journey down the road to ruin. When his mother got hooked and he was only a kid, he contemplated trying it numerous times. His mother had already been doing it in his presence for a while so mimicking her would’ve been easy.

 

But then the overdose happened and he solemnly swore that he’d never succumb to temptation. His mother's brush with death made him realize that it wasn't worth wasting his life away for ten minutes of bliss.

 

"Pot does its job for me just fine. I don't need any other mind altering substances to make me feel better about myself,” Sicheng eventually replies.

 

"You do you, I guess."

 

Yuta fetches an intact pencil from the chaotic mess and scoots right next to Sicheng on the sofa, making him flinch at the unwanted proximity.

 

"It's not contagious, sugar." he remarks sarcastically. "Loosen up."

 

He runs a hand through his still damp hair, twiddling the pencil with the other. The sweet smell of citrus overcomes Sicheng again and soothes his senses, if only just a little.

 

A worn-out sketchbook appears to have materialized onto Yuta’s lap while he wasn’t looking and he watches curiously as Yuta skims through it. Prodding. Searching.

 

Pages with splashes of colours are ripped haphazardly and discarded onto the floor without as much as a single glance from him. Some of them contain abstract patterns drawn in charcoal and coloured pencil, others are more refined, painted with an assortment of oils and acrylics and complimented with the occasional use of an airbrush.

 

It's almost saddening how Yuta tears through them mercilessly, all of that hard work flushed down the drain in the blink of an eye.

 

"Turn that frown upside down, love." he murmurs, as he stops on a blank page. "That's just a bunch of rubbish anyway."

 

He wants to protest and say that  _no, it's not_ but the telltale scratch of pencil on paper halts that train of thought.

 

Yuta retreats a good measure, hiding whatever he is doing in the process. His eyes are downcast, focused and the hint of a smile makes its way onto his face. The pencil keeps moving as if it has a mind of its own.

 

He periodically glances up at Sicheng with a knowing look and it just confirms his suspicions.

 

"You're drawing me." The words spill past his lips, more of a statement than a question.

 

"Just humour me, Sicheng." he pleads. Judging from that tone, it's clear to him that Yuta expects him to get up and leave and maybe just out of spite he does the exact opposite and poses for Yuta.

 

Every time Yuta lifts his head, their eyes lock for the briefest of moments, but Sicheng tries staying as still as possible. The uneasy atmosphere dissipates and they are engulfed in comfortable silence, the only sound heard being that of his pencil.

 

With time, his strokes visibly diminish in size and when he stops completely and Sicheng shifts his gaze towards the clock hung up on the wall he realizes it's only been around ten minutes since Yuta started drawing.

 

He waits, breath caught in his throat and anticipation coiling in the pit of his stomach, but for the first time since he crossed the threshold of Yuta’s studio the twitching seems to have subsided, his erratic breathing has calmed down and he gives no indication of wanting to move anytime soon.

 

"Are you going to show me?" Sicheng prods quietly, afraid to break the calm.

 

Their eyes meet once more and Yuta turns the sketchbook towards him painstakingly slow.

 

He can almost see the first outlines of black and then...

 

With a violent movement Yuta snaps it shut, making Sicheng jump out of his own skin.

 

"Get out."

 

Sicheng is slightly alarmed and thoroughly confused. "What?"

 

In a matter of seconds Yuta’s expression contorts into one of pure white-hot anger. It’s an entirely new look on him and Sicheng instantly decides he doesn’t like it one bit. He’d take the dopey smiles and cheekiness any day instead of this.

 

Through gritted teeth, Yuta reiterates venomously. "Get the bloody hell out of here."

 

The last embers of the proverbial fire in his eyes die down, replaced by the bitter aftermath.

 

Sicheng doesn't need to be told a third time to make himself scarce.

 

~~~

 

Late that night as he prepares to tuck himself in, the piercing sound of his doorbell startles the sleepiness out of him.

 

He waits for the second ring but surprisingly, it never comes.

 

With a heavy heart, he checks outside and the only thing he finds on his porch is a sheet of paper, rolled and tied up with a simple black ribbon.

 

He opens it up and stares at the perfect, black and white rendition of his own face. There is no signature, only a single line of text scribbled messily at the bottom of the page.

 

_Sometimes the road to your betterment starts with shattering the confines of your own mind._

 

 

_~~~_

 

It’s the closest thing to an apology he ever gets from Yuta.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and I hope you have a lovely day!
> 
> Leaving feedback is highly encouraged and appreciated. :)


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